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The Best of Times, The Worst of Times On The Horrible, Awful, Appalling Train

Another long train ride down, and Rusel and I couldn’t be happier. In our case, the universe definitely saved the worst for last, because this was the most godawful train we have been on yet.

The trip started agreeably enough. We found our train at the train station and were even at the car door before the man in charge of the carriage was ready to open it up. We could see his shadow inside the train, slowly putting on his uniform. This should’ve served as a small sign to us – on the Russian trains, the sturdy, gruff women whom we feared and revered really kept on top of the cleanliness and overall comfort levels of their train with a strictness that we came to admire. The man in charge of this train (I don’t think that they’re called provodnitsa anymore as we’re no longer on Russian trains – this one was either Chinese or Mongolian, we’re not sure) definitely didn’t take the same pride in his work as his Russian counterparts.

As we were standing there waiting to board, a group formed and we noticed two other backpacker-types. We said hi and they turned out to be very friendly; two nurses from England returning after a year in New Zealand. We all boarded together and they were a few compartments down from us. They had been traveling in China and went up to Mongolia for about two weeks and were now returning back to China before they head home to the UK so they were a good source of knowledge about China.

We left UB on time and soon, the entire train car became a little bit of a big party. We shared our compartment with two Mongolian businessmen who promptly made their beds and got under the sheets and fell asleep. The rest of the car, however, came alive. Apparently there was a huge group of Mongolian businesspeople traveling together in this car and the Mongolian vodka came out.

We went down to our UK friends’ compartment and sat up talking and drinking for quite some time. Everything was going great and it was nice to have some new friends and swap stories. They were really cool girls.

This is when I would say the tide turned. One of us, as it inevitably would happen, had to use the restroom. I believe it was Rusel who ventured down to the toilet first. Usually, there is a toilet located on both ends of the car but in this case, the lazy guy in charge of the car kept the one near his little compartment locked -- probably to keep it all to himself and also to keep it clean.

To say that the toilet was vile doesn’t cover it. Unspeakable? Abhorrent? Sickening, hellish, nightmarish? Perhaps these words, when put together, scratch the surface of what was found in that room. And with a whole carful of drunken Mongolian businesspeople, the state of the bathroom was only getting worse.

After each of us had ventured down to the toilet and came out sickened, we all stopped drinking right away to somehow stop the natural process of things – none of us wanted to go into that bathroom anymore than we absolutely had to. But it was too late for me – I was up and down a few times in the middle of the night. I can barely even think of it right now. I will spare you any more details but it was by far the worst toilet situation I have ever encountered – and I’ve traveled to some places that are known specifically for their bad toilets. And the worst thing about this toilet was that there was no escaping it –we were stuck on this train for 24 hours.

Not only that, but our Mongolian roommate was an Olympic-style snorer. He makes Rusel’s snoring look positively wimpy by comparison. This guy was raising the roof, and to top it all off he would awaken every now and again and clear his throat. It made the most disgusting sound. I just curled up in my little bed, tried not to go to the bathroom, and prayed for the 24-hour journey to pass quickly.

The next morning was a new day and we crossed over to China. That was kind of thrilling, although to be honest I just wanted to get off the train there and figure out how to get to Beijing any other way than on the train. Crossing the border took about four hours or so. The interesting thing was that they had to lift the train off of the track and change the wheels because the width between the wheels is different for Chinese tracks than Mongolian and Russian tracks. So not only did we have to go through customs and immigration on the train but this process also had to take place, further delaying our journey.

We were able to get off the train a bit and stretch our legs, which was nice. It was sunny and spring-like weather at the Chinese border, which lifted my spirits a bit – I am so over cold weather. As our train chugged out of the border station marching-band music was played over the loudspeaker to welcome us to China. It was a nice touch.

Things were looking up again but soon they would take yet another turn for the worst. We got off the train at a small city called Jinjing, where we were switching over to an overnight train to Beijing. We had about four hours to wait before our next train and we went to the train station waiting area with another couple who was doing the same thing as us – although they were a bit older, they were Western (French and German) and so we all stuck together.

At this point – after the filthy train – Rusel and I were in worse shape than even when we arrived in Mongolia. Our present dirtiness made even our worst state previously look as if Mr. Clean himself had polished us. I looked at the couple that we were waiting with and thought to myself, “They look absolutely filthy,” and I realized that we probably looked the same. Reading Anna Karenina and the cares and whims of the Russian nobility just made me feel like a dirty peasant. Anna never had to take a foul, grimy train.

The waiting room for our next train was, quite possibly, the worst introduction to China that could’ve been. It was dark and the lights shining down from above gave everyone a sinister glow. The place was absolutely packed full of people and all of the seats were taken, so the four of us found a spot on the floor to put our stuff down to wait. We had just set all of our stuff down when I heard a loud, clearing-of-the-throat noise and saw a man about 3 feet to my left spit straight down onto the floor. As I looked around, I noticed that there was spit all over the same floor I had just set my backpack down on. After the previous bathroom situation, it was almost all I could handle. For some reason --- exhaustion, feeling sick to my stomach, the darkness of the room – I almost started crying. I was just over it.

We were stuck in this hellish room for four hours (endless throat clearing that was impossible to ignore took place) and excitedly walked to the train when it arrived. But once again, we were in for a bit of a surprise. We thought that we had bought tickets for a kupe (compartment of 4) as we had traveled the entire trip until then – however, we were actually in one huge car that had open rows of bunks of three. And Rusel and I had somehow booked the middle and the very top bunk. I didn’t mind, but poor Rusel. The bunks were built for Chinese people, the majority of which are much shorter than him. He took the middle bunk, I took the top and as I climbed up to my bunk – which was so close to the ceiling that I couldn’t even sit up -- Rusel looked up to me and said, “No more trains. Ever.”

I was too tired and emotionally drained to argue. The romanticism of taking the train, at that moment, was completely gone for me. I just wanted to be someplace clean, that wasn’t moving and that had a toilet that didn't display what the last twenty people had done previous to my visit. Neither of us slept much last night and our train arrived this morning in Beijing at 7 a.m.

In the end, we had a great day exploring Tiananmen Square and the city of Beijing and I've uploaded all of Rusel's photos from today which tell the story much better than I could right now as I'm a bit beat. I’ll write more tomorrow about our first impressions of China but so far, so good.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

On our last day in Mongolia, Rusel and I were hurrying back to our lovely little guesthouse to quickly shower, repack our things to accommodate the little treasures we had just bought, and head to the train station. Our last mission was to grab a bite to eat to avoid getting on the train hungry.

We walked block after block back to the guesthouse but didn’t find anything that would be considered “fast food.” Even the restaurants that said they were fast food still weren’t what we needed – indecipherable menus and long lines. Our last-ditch effort to eat was a small Chinese food place right down the street from our guesthouse.

The place was empty (usually a bad sign), but they had an English menu available and we didn’t have time to look for anything else. We quickly ordered what we wanted and our Mongolian waitress went off.

A moment after she left, two filthy little boys came through the door.

“Money, money, money!” they shouted to us. They looked to be about ten years old.
They didn’t approach our table, but stood about five feet from us. Rusel and I looked away as we had already given out quite a bit our small bills to some of these street children and also I know that this doesn’t help the situation at all in the end anyway – it only encourages the cycle.

The woman who had just taken our order, along with the other woman working there, shoo’d them out the door and tried to close it behind them. But the little beggar boys weren’t going that easily. They began screaming and holding onto the door, trying to stay inside.

The women started laughing as they grabbed the little boys’ hands and finally pushed the door shut. But the little boys weren’t giving up -- they started pushing on the door to get back in. The parties on both sides were screaming at each other in Mongolian – the girls on our side were laughing a bit at the boys’ persistency and I have no idea what the little boys on the other side of the door were screaming.

Soon, the little boys started kicking the door. After a few minutes, it died down a bit and both of the women walked away. This must’ve been just what the boys were waiting for because again they burst into the restaurant. This time, the cook from the back was called in and screamed at them and shoved them out the door, and this time stayed outside and must’ve moved on.

Mongolia is obviously a country that is struggling. After spending four days there, I realized that it is an “NGO Country,” as it was apparent everywhere that there is foreign aid pouring into the country. Rusel is listening to Alan Greenspan’s book on his IPOD (which he highly recommends) right now and Alan actually talks about Mongolia – he calls it the “darling of the Asian economies.” The USA is actually giving Mongolia large amounts of aid to ensure that they continue on the capitalistic path.

On the train to UB, we met a very nice Mongolian man in the compartment next to us. He was extremely helpful and his English was superb. He was a lawyer in a city outside of Mongolia and when Rusel asked him to describe Mongolia for us, he said that it is difficult to be sandwiched between two great superpowers – Russia and China. The clash between these two countries is apparent in Mongolia; however, there did seem to be a unique spirit and vibrancy in the people there.

But quite often, the problems of the country were quite apparent. Many blocks looked as if they had been bombed out or just hit with a huge wrecking ball. There was rubble everywhere on the sidewalks – when there was a sidewalk. Usually, we would be walking along a semi-decent sidewalk only to have it abruptly end and become sand, or rubble. The roads were filled with huge potholes, some of them actual huge holes without any coverings on them. You really had to pay attention – I was literally just waiting for the klutz in me to fall down one of these holes, never to be seen or heard from again.

The entire city of UB was engulfed in pollution – from cars, from the coal stoves that heat so many of the Gers, and dust. Dust was everywhere and although I think that Rusel’s pictures were lovely, he complained that there was too much dust in the air to get a good shot. I wouldn’t say that the city was dirty, but it was quite dusty. Once we got out of UB it was still dusty, but not as bad.

The museum that we went to on our last day was another telltale sign of a city in disrepair. None of the artwork was properly curated, the floors were creaky (one of the displays of ancient Mongolian headdresses jiggled back and forth as we walked up to look at it) and the walls needed a new paint job. I told Rusel that the museum was totally “cracked out,” and that’s really the best way to describe it.

So if all of this is true, why did I love it so much? I guess maybe I’m always rooting for the underdog. Mongolia has a lot going for it but at the end of the day, it was the absolutely lovely people that live there that made me feel so connected to the place. The city of UB was ugly but there were splashes of color here and there that made up for the constant drab. It was almost as if we were constantly looking at everything in black-and-white but then every once in a while – at the monastery, or maybe a monk walking down the street in his bright gold robe, or an old building that the Soviets didn’t bother to tear down – the flip was switched to color.

China-Bound

Today Rusel and I are going to be hitting the city of UB – we have a long list of things to do. Rusel wants to go to the Zanabazar Museum of Fine Arts to see the work of the famous Mongolian sculptor and artist Zanabazar. I want to go to the Museum of Natural History, which apparently houses a good collection of dinosaur fossils found in the Mongolian Gobi desert.

Then it’s off for some shopping – oh sweet, sweet shopping. Unlike Russia, where we didn’t really see a single thing we wanted to buy after we left St. Petersburg, there is a plethora of amazing things to buy here. The Mongolian people have some interesting handicrafts and style.

And then, it’s off to catch the train to Beijing. We’ll arrive there on Wednesday morning. This may be our last big train ride – although we fly out of Shanghai to Tokyo, we have been toying with the idea of flying down to Shanghai if the flights are cheap.

Regardless, we’ll be on the train for the next 36 hours or so. I have decided to post some writing that Rusel has done on the trip, because some of his descriptions of life on the train and in Russia are so much better than mine, frankly. I have finally learned how to use the “timing” method on the blog so things can be written in advance and posted at a specific time – so although the blog is being updated, we are on a train somewhere between UB and Beijing.  So keep checking back if you’d like to read them as I’ve timed them to appear while we are en route.

I thank Rusel for being a guest blogger on this site, and I hope that you enjoy his writing as much as I do.

Ger, Sweet Ger

We went on a little adventure this weekend to the Mongolian countryside. We arranged the trip through our guesthouse – a trip to Terelj, a small village about 80 km northeast of UB and part of the Gorkhi-Terelj National Park.

We were guests of a Mongolian family in the village and stayed in a Ger located next to their house. Gers are traditional felt tents and many people in Mongolia still live in them – in fact, our guesthouse in UB is located in a Ger village (although the guesthouse itself is a regular building, there are Gers on the roof and the guesthouse is surrounded by Gers as well).

Our driver for the trip was a very amiable, merrry Mongolian named Baral. For the entire two-hour drive to Terelj, he sang along to the radio with such gusto – I imagine if he were to get on the stage he would be quite the entertainer. Although he didn’t speak one word of English, we were able to communicate with him quite well. It’s interesting to me how far a smile can go when it comes to communicating. Smiles and hand gestures!

The views were quite stunning. Brown mountains, golden grass, clear blue skies as far as the eye could see. There were also interesting rock formations everywhere that were quite unique. And the horses – everywhere horses. It’s strange because there aren’t many other animals except horses, cows, birds and dogs. We noticed that on Olkhon island as well – not very much wildlife whatsoever, everything is so stark and sparse; I suppose this is part of the simplistic beauty of these places.

The rock formations in the park were bulbous, large and filled with character. Our first stop was at Turtle Rock – a huge rock formation that appeared to be a big turtle looking up towards the sky.

“The thing I don’t understand is – where are there turtles around here?” Rusel said and I had to laugh. Someone who had traveled someplace and seen turtles must’ve named it.

We explored Turtle Rock for a bit with our guide. Many tourists were stopping here and there were also two hairy, gargantuan camels lazing near the rock and we were encouraged to take a ride. We did. I climbed up between the two humps of the camel and held on for dear life as he straightened out his front legs, and then his hind legs. It was a short ride – only about ten minutes – but it was fun. The camels here are longhaired and look quite substantial, more so than the camels in India.

Our driver took us to ride horses next. Rusel got on his horse and I got on mine, our  horse guide (who looked like he stepped out of some epic Mongolian folk tale) grabbed the reins of our horses to get them going and off we went. The horses here are a bit smaller than horses I am used to and these horses were either tired or just obstinate – they really didn’t want to go. Our Mongolian guide had a way of whistling and threatening that got them going, but then they would slack off again. Rusel’s horse was the most flatulent animal I have ever encountered – he passed gas the entire two hours we were on our trip. I tried to stay ahead of them both at all times!

We took the horses as far as they would go up the mountain and then left them with our guide as we hiked up to a Buddhist meditation retreat called Aryapala. The view from the top was stunning and the retreat itself was also quite beautiful and ornate. I really love the colorful Buddhist aesthetic.

We got back from our horse ride and jumped in the car with our driver. Our horse guide got in as well and our driver pulled out a big bottle of vodka and gave him some. Next, he took some himself and then he poured some in a cup for Rusel, and next for me. I didn’t really want to do it, but when in Rome… and it did warm me up a bit after the horse ride. They all laughed at me as I made that face that said, “That was horrible.” It was horrible Mongolian vodka.

Next, we went to the small village where we would be staying the night. To say that the family we stayed with was lovely doesn’t even do them justice. They were the loveliest of the lovely. The highlight for both Rusel and I was meeting Byambaa, the granddaughter of the people we were staying with. She is thirteen years old and has been studying English for four years. She used our presence as a chance to practice her English and both Rusel and I instantly connected with her.

She had such a radiant personality and the most enthusiastic way of saying “YES!” that I have ever heard in my life. She insisted on going with us everywhere we went and became our self-appointed guide. We had a nice, late lunch prepared by her grandmother and then decided we wanted to go on a hike.

Byambaa went with us, talking all the while. She loves Britney Spears, Pussycat Dolls and learning English. She also wants to learn Russian and Korean and loves her best friend. She sang us her favorite English songs: “Lucky,” as well as "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman," both by Britney Spears, “Sway,” by the Pussycat Dolls, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” “I’m a Little Teapot,” and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” She was such a little gem.

We came back in time for a glass of wine in our adorable Ger, and then headed over to the main house for dinner. Byambaa’s grandmother was a striking woman with gray hair and high cheekbones. She was inside cooking for all of us – Rusel, Byambaa, the grandfather, our driver, and someone else from the village. Rusel and I sat at the “kids table” in the living room with Byambaa.

As a gift, Rusel had brought them some vodka and we gave it to them when we came over for dinner. Soon, Byambaa’s grandfather brought us two little shot glasses and filled them up with vodka. Everyone gathered together in the living room, a toast was made (in Mongolian) and we all drank up.

This was repeated many times throughout the night and to be honest, it makes me feel a little ill right now just thinking of how drunk I was last night off of horrible, Mongolian vodka. But we did have a lot of fun. After dinner, Byambaa grabbed her favorite English book: The Puffalumps. It had four separate stories in it and she read each, one by one, to both Rusel and I and then later the entire family which had congregated around us. We helped her with words that she didn’t know how to pronounce and again, we both adored her for her desire to learn.

Although it was only about 9:30, both Rusel and I were pretty drunk and the driver came in with all of his bedding – he was sleeping on the floor of the main house. Rusel and I went back to our Ger in pitch darkness and looked up at the stars. It was the most amazing sky filled with stars that I have ever seen. We grabbed a blanket and sat outside under the stars for as long as we could handle in the cold. I felt as if someone had painted the entire sky the blackest black possible and then put millions of little pinholes on the canvas, to let the light shine through. The Milky Way was so visibly obvious that it could’ve been a billboard in Vegas. I saw two shooting stars. It was a beautiful night.

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache (which I actually still have!). We went to the main house to have breakfast, and Byambaa was there in the main room studying English and writing down the pronunciations for all of the words that we had helped her with in the book she had read us the night before. Learning English is doubly hard for her because everything is in a completely different alphabet, as they use a different version of the Cyrillic system. She had such spunk.

We went on another hike with our guide Byambaa and then headed back for lunch. After lunch, we packed up and headed back to UB. Byambaa actually came with us as she lives in UB and was just visiting her grandparents for the weekend. We exchanged e-mails and I’m looking forward to keeping in touch with her.

Tag-a-longs at the Monastery

Upon arrival in Mongolia, both Rusel and I looked and felt like two hobos who had been ridin’ the rails for days….months….maybe even years. We were both smelly and couldn’t even change to feel cleaner because all of our clothes were dirty. All we could do was endure it, and be glad that we didn’t have to share our compartment with anyone – we were torturing each other enough but the embarrassment on top of all of that would’ve been unbearable.

When we arrived at our guesthouse, we took a quick nap and showered up. What a feeling. The water was hot and the water pressure excellent – something that we haven’t had a chance to experience in tandem in quite some time. We also handed over our laundry to the woman in charge – literally almost everything I own that is considered “winter clothing.” I didn’t even have clean socks and had to go without them until we found a vendor on the street selling them. I couldn’t wait to stop for lunch so I could run into the bathroom and put them on my chilly feet.

After a nice breakfast prepared at the guesthouse, we set off to greet the new day in a new country. I hate to say that we loved Mongolia right away – because that would just be too easy – but we loved Mongolia right away. Our guesthouse is conveniently located near Gandantegchinlen Khiid, the highly recommended Buddhist monastery. It is Mongolia’s largest and most important and the name translates as “the great place of complete joy.” It is located about a five-minute walk from our guesthouse.

We entered the monastery, which is really a huge, bustling community of monks, visitors, and buildings. In the center, near the back, is the most important building holding a 4-story high Buddha. It is the biggest copper Buddha in the world. Rusel and I decided we wanted to save the best for last, so we began exploring the smaller buildings located around the huge, main building first.

The thing that I loved about the whole complex was that it was alive with energy, sounds, and smells. We went inside the first small temple and found a group of about twenty monks sitting facing each other and chanting, with younger monks in the back smiling and horsing around a bit – the younger ones appeared to be about ten or eleven years old.

We stayed for a while and watched this interesting ceremony, and moved onto the next temple. This is around when our “traveler’s luck” kicked in. There was another small group of what appeared to be Western tourists receiving a tour. As we entered a temple with them, we couldn’t help but overhear one of the men say that he was from Texas, and the other was from New York. About five monks accompanied them, and upon studying the group it appeared as if they were treating the older gentleman from New York quite specially.

We soon somehow became associated with their group and we silently tagged along with them. At one point, both Rusel and I asked if it was okay and the guy from Texas said that it wasn’t a problem. It turned out that we were getting a special tour from the head of the entire monastery himself. The monk who was translating everything for the head of the monastery, who couldn’t speak English, told us that he had been His Holiness The Dalai Lama’s translator when he had visited last year. Suddenly, we were receiving the V.I.P. tour.

“Your coat is just like the monk’s robes,” the monk said, referring to my bright red jacket. The colors of the robes and the overall festiveness of Mongolian’s clothing in general are unique – built for comfort as well as warmth -- but overall amazing style.

On the rock star tour, we learned the history behind the entire compound and it is fascinating. When Mongolia was occupied by Russia during World War II, the only reason that the main, large building wasn’t torn down (as all of the rest of the buildings were, and have since been rebuilt) is because the Russian army used it as storage. The huge, four-story high Buddha located there now is actually a replica that was replaced in 1996 because the original was torn apart by the Russians, and shipped back to Russia to make bullets for the war. Such a sad irony that something holy and used for worship was ultimately melted down and used to kill.

The monks were really just so special – they treated us so kindly. Looking into their serene faces just made me feel better about everything in the world for a brief moment in time. Rusel got into a philosophical discussion with one of the monks about Buddhism, and at the end of the “tour” they stood around talking about enlightenment and faith for quite some time. We never did learn who the man from New York was but he was obviously someone very special because he definitely had the red carpet rolled out for him (and we did, too, by association. Be quiet, Roger!). I did overhear him saying that he was a friend of one of the important monks here who is ill right now and in Hungary, but I didn’t really ask him how he was associated with the monastery specifically. At the end of the tour, we entered a final building where they all sat down to have a business meeting and we promptly, but sadly, left them.

Both Rusel and I thought that it was a good omen that we were instantly treated so well in Mongolia and happened upon this group of people. There is definitely something very mystical about the people here and the place. Although “UB” is quite ugly – the Russians not only destroyed the Buddha but also built row upon row of flat, gray communist buildings – here and there you will see something special.  The entire city is surrounded by mountains, which do counteract the ugliness of the flat, squat, colorless buildings somewhat. The people here seem to have a warmth and radiance to them; we’re so glad to be here and their colorful clothing and personalities more than make up for some of the physical ugliness of the place. 

It is apparent that many people here are very poor and the city itself is on the whole is in disrepair. The sidewalks are non-existent in certain areas and the roads have huge potholes or just huge holes (I almost fell in one today; Rusel saw someone sleeping in a huge hole in the sidewalk near the one I almost fell into). We went to the train station today to buy our onward train tickets to Beijing and we saw a man spread out, facedown, on the sidewalk. He wasn’t moving -- he could’ve been dead. Everyone was just walking around him. There is definitely a distinct feeling of dearth and scarcity and on our big walk around town today I saw, for the first time, many NGO signs reminiscent of Aceh. 

We will be staying here until Monday night, when we will catch our train to Beijing. We had a momentary panic because there is a direct train to Beijing only twice a week – once on Saturday (too soon, we just arrived) – the next on Wednesday (too late, we want to be in China by then). Luckily, we figured out way to get to China and then buy our onward ticket there – another adventure.

And this morning, we arranged a trip out into the Mongolian countryside through our guesthouse. We will be traveling out to Terelj, a part of Gorkhi-Terelj National Park. We’ll be staying in a traditional ger (a round, felt traditional Mongolian home) with a Mongolian family and will be back on Sunday night. I’ve heard so many great things about traveling out into the countryside and I’m so excited about going.

Goodbye, Russia. Hello, Mongolia!

We made it back to Irkutsk from the island on Wednesday without much incident. We caught the minibus back – by the time we made it down to the “bus station” on the island (someone’s brown wooden house with blue windows), it was already packed full and we were the last people to board.

Of course, there was a completely insane man on the bus who talked the entire trip. At first I thought that he was talking to the woman next to him, but she quickly nodded off yet he kept talking. And talking. He talked to nobody in particular the entire trip. He was dirty and appeared as if he hadn’t showered in years – I read somewhere that during the Revolution, Siberian peasants didn’t shower the entire winter and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if this man was carrying on that tradition. At one point, he ate a hotdog without the bun by opening it up from the skin and eating the meat inside, bit by bit, and then throwing the skin out the window with his dirt-stained fingers. At that point, he had dropped little pieces of hotdog all over the van. Nice.

Once at Irkutsk, we went to an amazing market and stocked up on food for the 36-hour trip to Mongolia – the market had whole aisles devoted to cheese, an aisle to meat, an aisle to vegetables – and everything seemed fresh off the farm (although I don’t think we saw one farm the entire time we were in Russia, which struck us as odd). We went to a wireless café but had some problems and had to abandon everything mid-way through our work (my blogging) to hurry to catch the train -- so I apologize for the state that I left it in the past few days. You have no idea how it killed me!

The train to Mongolia was probably one of the nicest we’ve been on yet – and as luck would have it, we had the entire compartment to ourselves for the 36-hour journey. The train was exceptionally clean, and hardly full at all. In the compartment next to us were three Swedish people about our age, and one compartment over on the other side was a very sweet Mongolian family that we befriended. For most of the trip, that was it.

The train looped around the southern end of Lake Baikal and then started heading south towards Mongolia. This is where we have ventured off of the traditional trans-Siberian train journey and begin taking an alternate route down to Beijing. Many people continue on to Vladivostok (the end of the line in Russia) but we have opted to go to Mongolia and then Beijing instead. As we went south, it began to snow and the train went through a little mini-blizzard. We were now going through a desert, ringed by mountains, and it was gorgeous with the snow. Being on the train can be tiresome at times, but then I look out the window and remember what it's all about. The terrain did get a bit monotonous at times in Russia but suddenly, everything outside our window had changed and it was a good change.

The hardest part of the journey was definitely crossing the border from Russia into China – it required patience on both of our parts. We stopped at the Russian border town of Nauski around 1:30 in the afternoon. Our Mongolian friend, Bolor, spoke near-perfect English and told us that immigration would show up at the train around 4:00, and that we should feel free to wander around the village until then.

We ventured into the village, which was completely desolate with only a burned-out car body or lonely babushka standing in front of her house, staring at us. We walked around a bit but quickly realized that there wasn’t much to see and then there was always the idea, in the back of both of our minds, that the train could just leave at any point without us (although unfounded, both of us have had nightmares about this a few times! I have no idea what I would do in the middle of Siberia with nothing at all – although it would make a great book!). We went back onto the train and basically sat there through immigration and customs, and left Russia around 6:00. We slowly chugged along to Mongolia and this side was a bit faster – we were out of there in about three hours. All in all, the process took about 8 hours, all to go about 10 miles.

That was last night – we spent two nights on that train and one day. We were awakened this morning at 5:30 a.m. by our provodnitsa when our train arrived in Ulaanbaatar (or “UB” for short) at 6:30 a.m. Our Mongolian friend had sweetly lent us his phone (our Russian number is no longer, great that I got to talk to you Paige! We’ll update with our Chinese number soon) on the train to call ahead and arrange accommodation once we arrived. As we stumbled off the train into the dark morning, I saw someone holding a sign that said “Gana’s Guesthouse,” the place we had arranged to stay.
“Welcome to Mongolia!” the woman holding the sign sang out. She had the sweetest voice to go with her sweet face framed by a fur-lined hood. Even though it was way too early to smile, I got such a rush of happiness: We were in Mongolia!

Rusel and I both appreciated our adventures in Russia but to be honest, after three weeks, we were ready to move on. I would say that we had some very high highs and some very low lows there – but I loved every minute of it and will always remember the time and the place fondly. We have already promised to return to Olkhon Island one day and I know that we will. It was just one of those spots where everything was aligned, and perfect. We both loved it.